The Gathering Darkness (39 page)

After walking through a maze of hallways we came to a large chamber with three arched entrances and a domed ceiling. In the chamber, there were three closed doors. Sammy led the way to one door, stopping in front of it. She passed her hand over the lock. There was a click and the door flew open with an echoed creak.

Sammy stepped aside and turned to face me. “Get in.”

I hesitated and felt a push from behind. Megan shoved me into the dimly lit, empty room and closed the door, locking it. For the first time since I’d fallen asleep on the sofa at Aunt Rachel’s, I was alone, but now, I was alone in the Ravenwyck, the place I feared most.

My prison was a small cube of a room made from stone. No furnishings. I sunk to the floor and let my head drop to my hands. Marcus was close by. I could feel him. With his blood in my veins and mine in his, I suspected he sensed that I was near, also.

The love I’d once had for Kalan and then Christian, on top of the most recent love I felt for Marcus, fused together, making me more in love than I’d ever imagined possible.

“Marcus, if you can hear me, we have to live this time. I’m not giving up. I remember everything, and I’m alright.” I spoke into the palm of my hand then blew the invisible words into the air, hoping they would find their way to his ear. It was a way we used to communicate to each other from far distances when we were Bryn and Kalan—I hoped it would work now.

Like a whisper on the wind, for only me to hear, Marcus’ answer found me. “No, don’t give up. I love you, and I’ll die before I let them hurt you.”

I locked those words away in my heart and fell asleep on the cold, damp floor.

Time passed. I had no idea how much. The door squeaked open, awakening me. I lifted my head off the cold stone.

“Brooke,” a tiny voice whispered. “It’s me, Robyn.”

For a moment I thought they’d captured her too, until she spoke again.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

I stood, shivering from the cold, and wrapped Marcus’ torn, bloodied shirt around me. “How did you get in?”

“Through the cemetery.”

“Maggie must know you’re here.”

“Maybe, but I couldn’t leave you here. I figured this is where they’d bring you.”

The lock clicked again. I jumped letting out a shriek. Robyn slapped her hand over my mouth. Beth walked through the door, closing it behind her.

She had a tray in her hands that held a tall glass of water, which I could have killed for, and a sandwich. I looked at her, not sure if it was a trick, not sure if I could trust her despite the recent return of past memories. Robyn took the tray from her and passed it to me. I almost downed the water.

“Maggie doesn’t know I’m here,” Beth said meekly. “She would punish me severely if she did.”

“Why are you here?” I asked through a mouthful of peanut butter and jam sandwich.

She twisted the corner of her sweater nervously, looking frightened and pitiful, exactly how she looked one hundred years ago. She swallowed hard. “I want her dead as much as you do. I want to be free.”

”Who are you, really?” Robyn asked.

“What I am doesn’t matter. I have always belonged to Maggie.”

Strange, Robyn hadn’t asked Beth
what
she was; she’d asked her
who
she was. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “For how long?”

“A very long time.” Her words were whispers. “But that doesn’t matter. I can help you.”

I stopped chewing. “How do we know we can trust you?” I asked.

“I know where Marcus is, and I’ll take you to him. But once you’re with him, you have to escape on your own. The same way you came in.”

Robyn nodded frantically. I was too nervous to eat anymore. I finished the water and handed the tray with half the sandwich back to Beth.

“Let’s go,” Robyn said.

Beth peeked around the corner of the door, then practically tip-toed across the chamber to another door. Robyn and I followed close behind.

“Going somewhere?”

Pain gripped my arm. The three of us stopped in our tracks and turned.

Maggie’s voice, reverberating off the chamber walls, was like an everlasting stab to my chest. She stood before us, in the middle of the large chamber, alone.

Hunched and wrinkled she may have looked, but underneath the layers of oldness, stood a frightening demon-witch with great power.

Her icy glare flicked to each of us as she spoke. “It looks as though I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute, Brooke. And Robyn, thank you for gracing us with your presence. It saves me from having to locate you later.”

“Glad to be of help,” Robyn said sourly.

Maggie’s expression switched from annoyed to angry as her eyes turned black and flicked from Robyn to Beth, who was huddled against me.

“As for you, Beth, I’ll deal with you later.” With a wave of her hand, Maggie disappeared, taking Beth with her.

Evan and Sammy materialized in the spot where she’d stood.

“Start walking,” Sammy said coolly.

“Can’t you do something?” I whispered to Robyn.

“Not against two witches.”

We walked until we came to the main level of the Inn. It seemed empty of people. I thought about making a run for the door, but that seemed impossible. We walked up the main staircase, past the creepy painting that had once come to life in front of my eyes. Unable to resist, I glanced at it. Everything was as it should be.

When we reached the top, an overwhelming feeling of foreboding cut deep into my chest. I held no hope of ever being in Marcus’ arms again.

W
ith a good idea now of where they were taking us, I walked beside Robyn and followed Sammy and Evan through the attic. The cold raised goose bumps over my flesh. I clamped my mouth shut and tightened my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering.

We were led in a different direction than I’d gone in with Marcus, but I knew the way from a memory long ago. In the middle of the attic, an iron staircase descended into darkness, where a secret room lay hidden beneath the floor.

At the bottom of the staircase, Sammy mumbled words of magic. Hanging from a beam in the middle of the high ceiling, seven candles set into an iron chandelier flickered to life and set the room aglow.

A large septagram had been etched into the stone floor long ago, each point representing one of us and our element. Inside the tip of each point, the symbol of our element was carved into the floor. Mine was a sun representing light. Marcus’ was a crescent moon representing dark. Beyond the points of the septagram, like slumbering sentinels waiting to be awakened, seven different colored candles sat atop seven iron holders.

This was our ritual room.

As I took my first step inside the room in a hundred years, the air was alive with power. It prickled my skin like sharp needles. Now though, instead of opening my pores and letting the energy seep into my network of nerves, I tried the impossible—to shut it out.

My eyes fell to the center of the septagram where a circle of ancient runes was carved. Inside the circle stood an intricate network of twisted iron, sculpted into a stand. On top of the stand, a crystal septagram, approximately a foot in diameter, each point clutched by a tendril of iron, hung cold and lifeless, waiting to be awakened. As my eyes swept over the familiar room, memories overwhelmed me—not all good ones.

Out of habit, I walked to my point of the septagram and turned to face the center of the room.

“Put these on,” Sammy said, thrusting black robes at Robyn and me.

I caught the soft garment before it fell to the floor. “I won’t help you cast a circle,” I said defiantly.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Sammy said, almost sounding like her sarcastic self.

Maggie, old and decrepit, materialized into the room. I let the robe drop down over my legs. Its hem grazed the floor.

“Where’s Marcus?” I demanded.

“He’ll be here,” Maggie said in a most pleasant tone, as if she was enjoying herself. A black, embroidered septagram, visible only to the seven of us, gleamed over the heart of her robe.

Finally, Marcus came down the stairs on the far side of the room with Megan clutched to his arm. He didn’t seem to notice me. His expression was blank.

Already robed, the two walked hand in hand across the room. Megan stopped when they reached Marcus’ symbol on the floor—beside me. She let go of his hand and stood in front of him, facing him. With a sly grin, she looked at me sideways, then reached her hands up, resting one on the back of Marcus’ neck and tangled the other in the back of his hair, pulling his face toward hers.

My blood froze, chilling my insides. I watched in horror as Marcus’ mouth met Megan’s in a fierce kiss. His arms lifted around her, one pushing against the small of her back, the other reaching under her blonde waves, entangling his fingers in her hair. When he moaned with obvious pleasure, I whimpered.

I felt a light touch to my shoulder. “It’s just a trick, Brooke,” Robyn whispered. “He’s under her spell.”

My eyes flicked to Maggie, who stood perfectly still, a sly grin on her face and hunger in her eyes. Was she next? My stomach lurched at the thought.

Megan slid her hands to the front of Marcus’ robe and leisurely unhinged her lips from his. His eyes popped opened. Anger flashed across his face, and he pushed Megan away from him. He looked around the room until he found me.

Satisfied with herself, Megan turned from him and walked past me, licking her lips seductively, as I’d once done to her.

“What the hell are you doing, Maggie?” Marcus asked with a sharpness I’d never heard from him before.

A look of sick delight had frozen on Maggie’s face. Her mouth twitched at the corners. “Did you enjoy the entertainment?” she asked.

“Hardly.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me. On the contrary, I think you enjoyed yourself immensely. At least it looked as though you did.” She looked from him to me. “Didn’t it, Brooke? That
was
quite a kiss.” Maggie’s grin widened. “And it was only the opening act.”

Marcus’ face reddened. The muscles in his jaw tightened, pulling the cords in his neck. But he stood still, as if knowing he was powerless against her.

The pain of what I’d just witnessed stung my eyes and burned my throat. I felt Marcus’ eyes on me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Robyn whispered, before leaving my side to take her place on the septagram.

The others took their places as well, and for the first time in a century, the Coven of Seven was assembled. I felt nauseous.

Maggie held out a white hand. “Samantha, come to me.”

Without hesitation, Sammy darted to her side. The two of them walked to a long wooden table set against a wall.

“Everything is ready, Priestess,” Sammy said, bowing her head.

On the table sat a lit candle, a small pouch, a glass of what looked like red wine, and the vial that held my blood. Sammy picked up the glass. While murmuring a spell, she took a smidgeon of ingredients from the pouch and sprinkled it into the liquid in the glass. She held the vial over the candle flame until it bubbled then poured the hot blood into the red liquid. With the motion of her wrist, Sammy swirled the ingredients inside of the glass, mixing them thoroughly. When she was done, she held the potion out to Maggie. Maggie took it, closed her eyes, spoke a few words of magic, and drank until every drop was gone.

With curious eyes, we all watched as Maggie transformed into the familiar Margaret. White teeth gleamed between crimson lips, framed by porcelain skin. The ends of her raven hair were lost in the blackness of her robe. Margaret was strikingly beautiful once again. She smiled, relishing the moment.

“Merry meet, Witches.”

Margaret’s zombies droned the greeting back to her.

“Who would have thought we’d all be together again for one final casting,” she said. Her black eyes, fringed with long lashes, darted to each one of us. Her pupils glistened like lacquered obsidian.

I blinked and pulled my gaze away from her. None of this made sense to me. Why would she want to cast a circle? Marcus and I wouldn’t be able to participate unless we came into power, which she would never allow. It would mean that Marcus and I would have more power than we’d ever had—possibly even more than Margaret. The very reason she’d killed us last time.